


Home for the Holidays

by Koltarmi



Category: Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-02-16 21:08:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13062189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Koltarmi/pseuds/Koltarmi
Summary: A little white lie Anya tells her grandmother spirals out of control and now she needs a fake boyfriend to bring home for the holidays. She turns to her former enemy, now her close friend and neighbour, Dmitry, for help.The modern fake dating au no one asked for, but I really wanted to write.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> shoutout to the thirstsquad, this is for y'all. My tumblr is koltarmi, so check it out if you like musicals and crying about musicals.

Anya knew that her Nana loved her.

 

Although, her Nana would always say that she was her favourite, Anya knew that Maria adored each of her grandchildren with fervour. The two had always been close, but the death of Anya's parents, sisters, and little brother left them united in their grief, yet grateful that they at least had each other. It was clear to everyone who knew them that Maria wanted the best for her dearest granddaughter. However, there were some days she questioned her grandmother's choices.

 

As of the past few years, it appeared she thought that Anya's empty love life was a matter she had to take into her own hands. Anya suffered through a countless amount of blind dates with family friends or the grandchildren of Maria's friends to appease her grandmother.

 

After a fifth failed blind date that month, Anya decided that a little white lie wouldn't hurt anyone. And so, during the next phone call with her grandmother, she casually mentioned that she was seeing someone.

 

"Is it Edith's grandson? Anthony?" she asked.

 

"No, um, actually it's someone you don't know,"

 

"Well, what's their name?" Maria prompted.

 

_ Shit. _

 

Her moment of panic scattered in an instant when she heard the heavy footsteps of her neighbour outside her apartment door followed shortly by the sound of his door closing.

 

"Dmitry," Anya said quickly into the phone receiver. "His name is Dmitry."

 

"Oh, what a strong Russian name," Maria replied,  a hint of approval colouring her voice. "Well, I would love to meet him one day."

 

"Of course, Nana! I have to get going, but I'll talk to you soon, okay?" 

 

“Goodbye, darling,” she replied cheerily. 

 

Anya sighed a breath of relief as she hung up the phone.  It was the perfect plan. With someone in her life, the blind dates would surely come to an end. Her Nana lived in a different continent and was always busy with her charities, so she would never have to meet her non-existent boyfriend. After a year or so of dating, she would tell her Nana that they broke up and that she was too heartbroken to go out into the dating pool so soon. That would buy her at least a solid two years. 

 

It was the perfect plan.

 

Or so she had thought.

* * *

 

“Anya, if you twist that dish towel any tighter you're going to break it," Dmitry says, not looking up from his phone.

 

Anya blinks and looks at the cloth in her hands sheepishly. She tosses the towel back on to her kitchen counter and makes her way to the couch, pushing Dmitry's feet off her coffee table before sitting down next to him.

 

"Dmitry, do you remember how we became friends?" she asks.

 

"Yes," he says hesitantly, curious where this question would lead them. "Why?"

 

A nervous smile appears on Anya's face. "You were so rude and to be honest, I hated you."

 

"To be fair, I did try to make your life a living hell," he replies, remembering the prank war that had escalated out of control between him and Anya when she had first moved into the building. 

 

"I thought you were the worst neighbour I ever had that is until Chad moved in." They both shudder as Anya says the name of their former neighbour.

 

"We combined our efforts and successfully drove that loud-mouthed frat boy out of the building. The faulty smoke alarm was genius, by the way. Why the sudden trip down memory lane?" Dmitry asks.

 

"Well, we've been friends ever since and I need to ask a really big favour of you." A knock on her front door interrupts their conversation and Anya jumps out of her seat to answer it. "Pizza's here!" 

 

She walks back into the living room with the box and hands it to Dmitry, who intermediately opens it to grab a slice, but stops when he sees the toppings.

 

"Anya, this has pineapple on it."  He looks up at her. "Do you need a kidney or something?"

 

"I stand by my stance that pineapple is disgusting and does not belong on pizza, but I'm really desperate," she says.

 

"What do you need?"

 

Anya takes a deep breath. "When we still hated each other, I may have told my nana that I was dating someone named Dmitry to get her to stop setting me up on blind dates?"

 

Dmitry stares at her. "And how long ago was that?"

 

"About two years now," Anya sighs. "I meant to end things a year ago, but I just became so busy with work and it just became easier to tell her that I was already in a committed relationship, but now she's invited us to stay with her for the holidays. So what I'm trying to ask is will you be my fake boyfriend for two weeks?"

 

Dmitry is silent for a few moments before asking, "What's in it for me?"

 

"Two weeks in a beautiful house, a white Christmas-”

 

“Hey, the slush on the roads was once white snow too,” Dmitry adds.

 

“My endless gratitude, and you get to choose the next five movies we go watch."

 

He grins. "You had me at movies."

 

Anya smiles in relief. "Great, we leave in two weeks. Pack some warm clothes, it gets cold in France during the winter."

 

"Wait, we're going to Paris?"

 

"No, not exactly. More like the outskirts of it. No take-backs, now finish your monstrosity of a pizza before we're late for tonight's movie."

 

"Love you too,  _ babe,"  _ he replies, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anya and Dmitry leave for France and discover some hidden feelings and fears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the lovely comments, kudos, reblogs, and likes! I was not expecting such a positive and enthusiastic response!

Anya comes to the realization that this may not be her smartest plan as she and Dmitry wait for their flight to begin boarding.

 

"Oh god, this is a mistake," she whispers to Dmitry who is slumped beside her in the stiff airport seats. "It's not going to work."

 

"Hey," Dmitry says as he straightens up in his seat. He reaches across the armrest and takes her hand in his. "Everything is going to be alright. We've got this."

 

"I hate lying, especially to my nana."

 

"Then why go through with this whole fake boyfriend business in the first place?"

 

Anya pinches the bridge of her nose. "Because for some insane reason, she believes I can't possibly be happy and single. Also, I talked so much about you that if you didn't show up, she would get suspicious."

 

"About that," he says. "What is this ideal boyfriend like? I don't have the best acting skills, but I took an improv class in college."

 

"Well, that'll be easy on your end. He's you," Anya says, missing the look of surprise and hope that flits across Dmitry's face. "I used your name and as I got to know you, I just described you. I told her we didn't get along at first. That you were snarky, prickly but with a kind heart, funny, handsome and etcetera. After all, it was easier than trying to create someone who didn't exist."

 

As she continued on with charade of her fake boyfriend, she had decided early on that honesty was the best policy. It was easier to keep track of one big lie about her relationship status than several smaller ones concerning details about her significant other.

 

"You told your grandmother I was handsome?"

 

"Don't let it go to your head," Anya warns."You know me and I know you. All we have to do is pretend that we're madly in love with each other."

 

"Easier said than done," he replies, which is immediately followed by a groan as Anya elbows him in the side.

 

"Oh, and one more thing."

 

Before Dmitry can respond, Anya grabs him by the lapels of his coat and kisses him. It takes several seconds before he processes what is happening and responds. At first, he tries to put his hands on her waist, but the position is blocked by the armrests of their chairs. Instead, he moves his hands upwards to gently cradle her face. He can't help but notice that Anya kisses like she lives—full of fire and spirit. He's still a bit dumbfounded when she pulls away with flushed cheeks and her lips slightly swollen.

 

Her face is barely an inch away when she says, "That way if we ever need to kiss in front of anybody, it won't be awkward."

 

Dmitry nods. He bites his tongue so he doesn't say that was not how he expected their first kiss to happen. All he can he think about is how close they still are and the fact that friends shouldn't be imagining what kissing their friend was like in the first place.

 

_ Amazing _ ,  _ by the way _ , his mind unhelpfully supplies.

 

"I- I kiss better when I'm not ambushed," he whispers as Anya’s cheeks turn even redder at his comment. She opens her mouth to respond, but jumps back as a flight attendant announces that the plane will start boarding in two minutes.

——

As the plane fills up with people, Anya keeps her gaze pointed out towards the tiny airplane window.

 

She had thought that kissing Dmitry in a crowd of strangers would be simple—that she would feel nothing.

 

Whatever she had felt, it was definitely something she had not been expecting.

 

She shakes herself out of her thoughts. Now was not the time to be thinking about this. She and Dmitry would go on with this charade for two weeks. Once she had enough time to process everything, she would think about it then or hopefully, never again.

 

With that decided, Anya glances at Dmitry beside her. He's tightening the seat belt as far as it will go. His hands fidget on his lap before he clasps them together so tightly that his knuckles turn white. He stares straight ahead, burning holes into the headrest in front of him. The grimace on his face is similar to the one he had when they had watched a horror movie marathon only for him to admit afterwards that he hated the genre.

 

"Dmitry, are you afraid of flying?"

 

His head turns at the sound of her voice. "What? Of course not," he scoffs.

 

Anya simply raises an eyebrow. Not a second later, he sighs and relents.

 

"It's stupid to be afraid of something you've never experienced," Dmitry mumbles.

 

Her mind had been so busy planning out the details of the trip that she had forgotten to ask him something as simple as a possible fear of flying. This time she’s the one who takes his hand from across the armrest and laces their fingers together.

 

"It'll be alright," she says, looking up at him. His brown eyes are filled with skepticism, but she just tightens her grip on his hand. "I'm right here."

 

When the plane rumbles and begins to take off, his hand holds onto hers like a vise as his eyes screw tight. As they reach cruising altitude, Dmitry opens a single eye. His face lights up as he glances out the through the plastic window at the clouds below them. He lets out a short hysterical laugh that catches the attention of some fellow passengers. He doesn't notice and just continues to stare at the ground below them.

 

Anya briefly closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She flexes the hand Dmitry is holding.

 

_ 'Not now',  _ she thinks, taking in the look of wonder on her best friend's face.  _ 'Not ever.' _

 

This was going to be a long two weeks. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anya and Dmitry land in France. Along the way, they learn more about each other's family and past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all of your responses. Here's the next chapter which becomes a little less fluffier and sweet. It's also three times longer than my previous two chapters. Why do I like writing sad things.The world may never know.
> 
> Oh the bit of French are translated below. Excuse any mistakes, I'm relying on my year-old knowledge of Quebecois French:
> 
> "Hello Sébastien! How are you?" 
> 
> "Very well, miss. Is this the man your grandmother has been talking about?"

Dmitry feels like he would not be surprised if it turned out this was all some elaborate situation he had dreamt up and that sooner or later he would wake up on his lumpy couch in his apartment with a sore back.

 

A two-week-long vacation in France as his best friend’s pretend boyfriend was a scenario that seemed only plausible in the world of cheesy rom-coms.

 

Yet here he is, watching over their luggage as Anya chatters away in French with clerk at the car rental desk.

 

Moments later, Anya returns with a set of car keys in his hands and a grin on her face.

 

“When did you learn to speak French?” he asks, as she double checks that they have all their luggage.

 

“Basically from the moment I was born. My parents thought it was important that my sisters, brother and I were fluent in a multitude of languages before we could walk,” she replies, remembering the hours upon hours of French tutoring she had endured.

 

Dmitry looks at her with surprise. “I thought you were always an only child. How many siblings do you have?”

 

A solemn look passes Anya’s face that leaves him instantly feeling uneasy. Over the years, he has become familiar with her many expressions from anger and annoyance to unbridled enthusiasm and happiness. This resigned and muted look of sadness on her face is uncharted territory.

 

“Had,” she murmurs. “I had three older sisters and a little brother. They died with my parents when I was 17.”

 

“I’m so sorry.”

 

Anya shakes her head. “It’s alright, you didn’t know. I don't talk much about my family. It wouldn't make sense if we've dated and you didn't know. What about you? Any siblings?"

 

"Nope. Just me. My mom died right after I was born and my dad died when I was about 8. I grew up with my aunt once removed and we haven't talked since I moved out. I was more of a liability than anything."

 

"Oh god, I'm sorry."

 

"It happened a long time ago," he replies.

 

"That doesn't mean it hurts any less," Anya says. Her eyes were slightly watery. "Seems neither of us had the ideal family life."

 

"Just another thing we share in common besides our distaste of loud frat boys partying until four in the morning."

 

"Ugh, we were bonding for a moment," Anya groans. "Why did you ruin the moment by bringing up Chad?"

 

Dmitry lets out a laugh. "Hey, we should be thanking him. Isn't that the story we're going with? Our mutual annoyance of our rude neighbour finally brought us together and that's when you fell madly in love with me."

 

"I'm no damsel in distress. We fell madly in love with each other _together_." Anya smirks and sighs, "Now come on Romeo, we've got a hour drive ahead of us."

* * *

 

In his mind, Anya’s grandmother lived in a small and quaint little cottage on the outskirts of Paris. The gated mansion with a mile-long driveway is, suffice to say, not what he expected.

 

As Anya parks the car in front of the large double-doors, a couple of uniformed men and women descend upon the car from the small entourage of them standing on the stairs. Once they reach the car, they pop open the trunk and begin unloading the four pieces of luggage they have.

 

One of the older uniformed men steps forward and Anya greets him with a warm smile.

 

" _Bonjour Sébastien!_ _Comment ça va?_ "

 

" _Très bien, mademoiselle. Est-ce qu'est l'homme que votre grand-mère a parlé à propos?"_

 

 

Noting the lost look on Dmitry's face, she switches back to English.

 

"Yes, it is. This is Dmitry." Anya links their hands together. "My boyfriend," she adds with a dash of bashfulness, playing up the part of the enamoured girlfriend. "Dmitry, this is the house steward, Sébastien Dupont."

 

Following Anya's lead, Sébastien switches to English as well as he offers his hand to Dmitry to shake. "Welcome, _monsieur. Mademoiselle_ , your grandmother waits for you in the parlour."

 

Sébastien turns to walk up the large stone steps. Anya tows Dmitry along who openly stares at the imposing mansion in front of them.

 

Past the double doors, Dmitry is lead through a series of hallways with antiques that cost more than all of his life savings combined and ceilings so high they look like they belong in museums or churches.

 

They end up in a plush room with a blazing fireplace that's crackling the logs. As they enter, a stately woman with a head of grey hair stands, her posture exuding a air of dignity and a no-nonsense attitude. As soon as the elder woman spots Anya, a smile stretches across her face, but the heavy tension remains in her stiff spine and shoulders.

 

"Anastasia, darling," she says, crossing the room to greet the trio.

 

Dmitry has just enough time to glance at Anya and mouth 'Anastasia?' before her grandmother's arms envelop her into a tight hug.

 

"Nana, it's so good to see you," she replies. "And it's just Anya now, remember?"

 

"Of course, dear. Now introduce me to my future grandson-in-law."

 

Anya's face instantly turns a bright shade of red as she begins to stutter. Seeing her suffer a internal meltdown, Dmitry takes it upon himself to make an introduction.

 

"Dmitry Sudayev. It's a pleasure to meet you, m'am."

 

"Oh please, call me Maria," she says, pulling him into a hug as well. "You two must be exhausted from the flight. Sébastien can you show you to your bedroom and you can rest before dinner."

 

"Our bedroom?" Anya asks.

 

"Darling, I'm not so old-fashioned as to believe that you two haven't shared a bed at least once-"

 

" _Nana!_ " Anya exclaims as her ears also turn a vibrant shade of red.

 

Maria continued on as if nothing happened. "It's your old room, dear. But don't worry, I had it cleaned and aired out before you two arrived so it looks just like new. I have to finish up the last few details about a charity fundraiser, but I'll see you soon. We have so much catching up to do."

 

Still embarrassed, Anya doesn't move as Maria kisses her cheek and exits the parlour that has suddenly become a little too warm for Dmitry's liking.

* * *

 

The bedroom they're staying in is about as big as his entire apartment. The headboard of a large four poster bed was pushed up against the right wall and their luggage sat at the foot of it. A settee faced a brick fireplace and a pair of glass balcony doors had a view of what looked a snow-covered garden.

 

Dmitry waits a minute after Sébastien leaves before he turns to Anya, a million questions on the tip of his tongue.

 

The first word that comes out of his mouth is, "Anastasia?"

 

With a sheepish look on her face, Anya sheds her coat and throws it across the settee.

 

"My name is legally Anya Roman, but I changed it when I moved out of my grandma's home," she admits. "My name is, or technically my birth name was Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanov."

 

"I see why," Dmitry says, unravelling his scarf. "That's a mouthful."

 

A small grin tugs at the corner of Anya's lips.

 

"Why does the name Romanov sound so familiar?"

 

"Both my mother and father came from wealthy families."

 

Dmitry gestures at the room and mansion as a whole. "That much is obvious."

 

"My father was a politician in Russia before he was..." Anya grits her teeth. "Before he was—before they were..."

 

An image of a newscast flashes in the recesses of Dmitry's memory. He had been at a small deli nursing a hot cup of coffee when the owner of the shop turned up the volume of the television.

 

_"The remains of Russian politician, Nikolay Alexandrovich Romanov and his family have been found dead after being reported missing for two months. Investigators have declared their deaths to be foul play. Their youngest daughter, Anastasia Romanov, remains missing."_

 

"Oh god, Anya. That's awful. I'm so sorry."

 

A tired look of relief washes over Anya's face as she is saved the trouble of explaining the fate of her family.

 

"Again, it's alright. You didn't know," she says, repeating her words at the airport. "When I was finally found, my Nana thought I would be safer if I changed my name and when I moved, I wanted to start afresh. Not as Anastasia, just as Anya. I'm just so used to being known as Anya, I forgot my grandma still sometimes calls me by my birth name."

 

Dmitry walks to Anya and wraps his arms around her, unsure of what else to do. She accepts the hug, burying her face into the soft fabric of his coat that carries the faint scent of his cologne.

 

"Why don't we take your grandma's advice and rest before dinner?" Dmitry suggests.

 

Anya nods.

 

"I'll take the couch," he says, pulling away from the embrace.

 

Anya furrows her brow and grabs the sleeves of his jacket before he can fully move away. "That's absolute nonsense, Dmitry. We're both adults and the bed is big enough for us to share."

 

Not wanting to argue, Dmitry takes off his coat and settles on top of the covers as Anya climbs in to the other side of the bed.

 

Just as he's about to drift off, he hears Anya voice call his name.

 

"Dmitry?"

 

"Yes?"

 

"Thank you," she says, turning her head to face him. "For being here."

 

Dmitry reaches across the space between them and takes Anya's small hand in his; a gesture he was becoming far too comfortable with.

 

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be."

 

For the first time in his life, Dmitry finds that response to be true as he falls asleep, hand in hand with Anya.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dmitry learns more about Anya and they have dinner with her grandmother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was hoping to have this finished before the holidays, but alas, I'm a procrastinator. Sorry for the late update. Unfortunately, the next one is gonna be late as well. I go to school 6 out of 7 days of the week (pray for me pls), but i'll post asap once chapter 5 is done.

Three hours later, a gentle knock at the door wakes up Dmitry. He reluctantly untangles his hand from Anya, who is still asleep. He crosses the room quietly and cracks open the door.

 

Sébastien stands in the hallway with his hands behind his back in his perfectly pressed uniform.

 

"Dinner will be ready within the hour," he informs Dmitry.

 

Dmitry nods and quietly thanks the man before he closes the door again. As he goes to wake up Anya, he notices the little crease in between her eyebrows. For some reason, this makes him pause for a moment. Most people were relaxed when they were asleep, yet Anya with her positive disposition wasn't.

 

It was odd, Dmitry realizes. They had known each other for so long and considered the other their best friends, yet they knew so little about the other's past.

 

_ 'No time better than the present to learn,' _ he thinks, gently shaking Anya's shoulder to wake her.

 

With a groggy groan, Anya blearily opens her eyes. She stretches her arms and knocks over a picture frame that sat on her night stand. The sound of the metal frame startles her awake.

 

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," he teases. Dmitry bends down to pick up the picture frame. He means to take a quick glance, but the photo's subjects catches his interest.

 

It was a family of seven dressed in elegant formal wear smiling at the camera.

 

"I think I was 16 when we took that," Anya says, looking at the frame in Dmitry's hands. Sitting up, she points at the girl in the far right of the picture hugging a younger boy. "That's me and my little brother, Alexei." She traces her finger across the picture. "My parents are in the corner and in front of them are my older sisters, Olga, Tatiana, and Maria."

 

Dmitry notices the fondness she uses when speaking of her family, though this time there was no trace of sadness evident.

 

"Were you close to your siblings?"

 

Anya nods. "Very. I was closest with Alexei. When I was younger, my oldest sister, Olga, used to call me  _ shvibzik, _ " she laughs. "I was mischievous as a child."

 

"Imp?" he translates. "Pretty fitting."

 

"I didn't know you knew Russian."

 

He shrugs. "Just a little bit. My father taught me when I was five. I know enough to hold a conversation."

 

Taking the frame from his hand, Anya sets it back down on to the night stand. "I'm going to go and freshen up before dinner," she says, getting out of bed and opening a door across the room that he had not noticed before.

 

" _ Wait _ , we have our own bathroom?" Dmitry asks.

 

Anya smiles, hearing the excitement creeping into his voice. "Come see for yourself."

 

Crossing the room, Anya steps aside to let Dmitry stand in the door frame.

 

The bathroom is bathed in sunlight. A claw foot bathtub sits in one corner beside a glass shower. Above the sink, the mirror catches the sunlight and reflects it into his eyes.

 

"That's a real bathtub," he says, in awe. Dmitry thinks if he died, this is what heaven would look like.

 

"After dinner, I call the shower," Anya says, gently pushing Dmitry out of the way. "I have a feeling you'll want to spend some time in the bath."

* * *

 

Thankfully, dinner does not take place in a giant dining hall with a long rectangular table.

 

"That one is beside the ballroom," Anya tells him as they descend the stairs.

 

Dmitry doesn't ask why they have a ballroom. With the size of the mansion, he thinks they could fit an amusement park on the grounds.

 

The room they enter is a little bit smaller than the parlour they were shown earlier that day, but is just as ornate as the rest of the house. Maria is already seated at the square table when the pair enter the room.

 

"Anya, Dmitry, please have a seat." Maria says in lieu of greeting.

 

As dinner is served by the household staff, Maria asks, "So Dmitry, what do you do career-wise?"

 

Anya sighs. "Nana, can't this wait until after dinner?"

 

Dmitry laces his hand with the one Anya has on the dining room table. "No, it's alright," he says with the most charming grin he has. He turns back to Maria. "I'm a marketing agent for a small startup tech company in the city."

 

The rest of dinner continues on with Maria asking questions that Dmitry answers, with the occasional addition of Anya's remarks. The pair had run through a couple potential questions Maria would ask, mainly about their "relationship" to ensure their answers would match. Anya had drilled him in the two weeks before their trip, but Dmitry knew all the answers by heart. All he had to do was play the part of the doting boyfriend, seeking the approval of his girlfriend's closest relative.

 

As the table is cleared away, Maria asks a question the pair had not planned for.

 

"What about your family? What do your parents do?"

 

Dmitry pauses. Noting the look of hesitance of his face, Anya places a hand on his forearm. She shakes her head. "You don't have to," she whispers to him.

 

He is tempted to take Anya's offer of silence, but remembers the look of nostalgia on her face as she talked about her family. The truth was better than nothing. He touches the hand Anya has placed on his arm for courage.

 

"My mother passed away when I was only four months old, so I don't remember her much. My father was a steel mill worker who also passed away when I was eight years old. I was raised by my Aunt Elena, my mother's sister, but they were estranged and we never become very close."

 

The serious look on Maria's face softens a bit. "I'm so sorry, my dear. Anya and I understand all too well how hard it is to lose family."

 

The two women share a look that speaks volumes about the years of pain that their shared loss had caused. Anya reaches out and holds her grandmother's hand.

 

Maria's eyes shine with unshed tears as she looks at Anya with fondness and a hint of wistfulness.

 

It's that look that make the pieces in Dmitry's head click and realize his place in this whole plan; Maria didn't want Anya to be alone in the world if something were to happen to her. That was why she was so insistent on Anya having a significant other.

 

The realization stirs something in his chest and without thinking about it, he reaches out, takes Anya's other hand and looks at her. "Luckily, I found a new family," he says.

 

The shock on Anya's face is gradual, but it gradually turns into one of her bashful smiles that makes Dmitry's knees go weak.

 

What he doesn't see is the pleased look on Maria's face.

* * *

_ 'Luckily, I found a new family.' _

 

The words replay in Anya's head as Dmitry occupies their bathroom. She had no idea Dmitry held her in such a high regard.

 

As someone who had lost nearly all her family, the word held a significance she couldn't explain. From anyone else, she would have taken it as a meaningless comment.

 

But it was  _ Dmitry _ who said it. Dmitry, who understood what it was like to lose the people most important in your life. Anya had no idea how to deal with that.

 

She's sitting cross-legged on the carpet in front of her old closet when Dmitry exits the bathroom looking thoroughly relaxed.

 

"Enjoy your bath?" she asks.

 

He smiles. "Anya, showers are ruined for me now. How can I ever go back now that I know?" he says in a faux serious voice. "What are you doing on the floor?"

 

Anya turns back to closet with its open oak doors. "Just sorting through some old things. A trip down memory lane."

 

Dmitry walks to stand behind Anya. He looks at the closet's contents and pulls something wedged in the back. "What this?"

 

In his hands, Dmitry holds a green and gold jewelled box. Anya gasps at the sight of it and stands to look at the object he holds.

 

"My music box!" she exclaims. "Nana gave this to me as a present when I was seven. It plays the lullaby she used to sing to me. I thought I had lost it when I moved."

 

Dmitry gently places the music box in to her hands. He watches as she raises the music box above her head and turns the wind-up key located at the base. Anya lifts the cover and the music box plucks out a few notes before going out of key. Dmitry watches as the dancing pair in the centre of the box stalls.

 

A small frown mars Anya's face. "It must be broken," she sighs.

 

Closing the closet doors, she places the music box on her night stand and crawls underneath the covers.

 

Unsure if her offer to share the bed still stands, Dmitry begins to walk to the settee.

 

"Dmitry," Anya calls from the bed. She's lifting the other side of the blanket. "Don't be an idiot. The settee is way too small for you. Get into bed and sleep."

 

"Yes,  _ your highness _ ," he replies. He smiles as he see the small smirk that appears on Anya's face.

 

As he settles into bed, Anya turns off the lamp on her nightstand.

 

"Good night, Dmitry."

 

"Good night, Anya," he replies, turning off his lamp too.


End file.
